Heavy In Your Arms
by crazililwabbit
Summary: The Dark Brotherhood is starting over in Dawnstar, but they need new recruits. When Kir, a street-brawler with a pension for blood-lust and Twyla, a quiet sneak-thief who loves to eat, wake up in a cave will they choose to join the family? Enjoy the insanity and romance that ensues when the pair finds their 'Best Friends Forever! Cicero/OC Listener and OC/OC
1. Riften

Cicero sighed, "Time, always time." The stars danced against the velvety black of the night sky. "But Cicero is patient," he wrapped his hands behind his head. "Always patient."

Night came quickly in Skyrim during the winter, wrapping the forest in a thin layer of frost. The rock the Jester had found to lay on was no exception; he could feel the chill seeping through his coat to his bones. "Always so icy, icy cold here in the northern land," he hummed to himself. He crossed his right leg over his left, resting his ankle on his bent knee, shaking his foot in time to the tune in his head.

"Hmmmm…" he pursed his lips. "Need to gather flowers for Mother tomorrow. The winter snows are coming and soon there will be no more colorful blooms to decorate her." He groaned as he rolled onto his side. His brow had furrowed into rigid lines, his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth set in a deep frown. "Too quiet," he wrapped his arms around himself. "Always too quiet."

He laid on his side on the rock watching the air pour from his mouth in big white puffs. When his lungs began to burn from the crisp, cold air he finally pushed himself up. "Cicero should check on Mother," he stood from where he had been laying and began to hum the tune that was dancing in his head.

"What is life's greatest illusion?" the large black door breathed its question.

"Innocence," a grin spread across the Keepers face as he answered the question.

The door opened slowly, "Welcome home, brother."

He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands over his arms as he descended the stairs into the Dawnstar Sanctuary.

"Oh, hello, Little One!" Cicero sung when he saw the small vampire sitting on the wooden bench before their Dread Matron. "Come to visit Mother?"

"Nazir wants us to be ready to go soon," the small nord smiled. "We have a new recruit."

Cicero huffed, "The Keeper needs to stay here, tend to Mother." He crossed his arms and pulled his mouth into a pout.

"There are only three of us, including Babette." The Redguard climbed the stairs from the dining area. "And it will take all of us for this recruitment."

"How much trouble can one sibling cause?" Cicero rubbed his chin as he thought.

"Well," Babette stood from the bench. "You almost single handedly took out the whole Sanctuary last week when you saw a mouse near the Night Mother's altar."

"Stinking, sneaking rodents!" Cicero squealed and pulled on his hat. "They would chew on Mother's wrappings, leave her naked for the whole family to see!"

"That being said," Nazir glared at the vampire for bringing up the terror Cicero had rained down on the underground hold. "This recruitment is actually a two for one." He grinned. "We are getting a pair of sisters."

"Oh, sisters!" Cicero nodded in approval. "Cicero longs for a big family, full of brothers and sisters!"

"Then let's go," Nazir made his way to the front room. "We are losing night."

"Yes, yes, yes…" Cicero hummed the tune once more as he followed the other two back into the cold night. "More children for Mother to love."

* * *

"Get him, Kir!" the short Breton yelled. "Bash his face in!"

The red-haired brought the back of her fist down against the side of the man's face, breaking his jaw.

"That's right!" her friend clapped from the sidelines. "You've got this!"

The Nord steadied himself before swinging at the girl. She danced nimbly to the side, a wild grin on her face. The man fell forward as he missed and hit air. With a shriek the she brought her elbow down against the back of his head, knocking him out.

"You Imperial bitch!" another Nord yelled as he hopped the rope that marked the sidelines. "I'll not stand to see Sengrid beat by the likes of you!" he swung at her.

She blocked the large man's punch and stepped in close, her face was inches from his. "You wanna dance?" she whispered.

His face turned red with rage as he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her torso he squeezed. He yelled in pain as she bit into his neck, pulling out a chunk of flesh. He fell to the ground beside his companion, blood pouring through his fingers as he tried to apply pressure to his wound.

Kir spit out the mouthful of blood and Nord before dropping to a kneeling position before the shocked man. "If you wanted to feel my body against yours, all you needed to do was ask." She purred before leaning in and licking his nose up to his forehead, leaving a trail of saliva and blood.

"By the gods!" He yelled as he tried to back away. "You're insane!"

"Naw," she rolled her shoulders. "I just bite," her eyes grew wide. "Maybe next time I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," she pulled on her shirt, revealing more of her breasts.

"Tonight's winner!" the tall Dunmer stepped into the ring. "Kirsi the Devourer!" He held up the girls hand as the crowd cheered.

* * *

"This is enough septims to get us all the way to Whiterun!" the Breton's face gleamed.

"Good," the Imperial let her head fall back as she sat on the wooden bench. "I need something to eat."

"Well, let's head over to the Bee and Barb," the dark-haired girl stood up.

"Wait, Twyla." Kir drug herself up. "I think I dislocated my shoulder."

"I will fix it when we get back to our room," she paused, waiting for her friend, but froze when she saw the dark look on her face.

"Twyla," Kir's voice was low. "Get behind me."

Without hesitating the Breton hurried back behind her taller companion. "What do you want?" Kir growled through clenched teeth.

"I want the money you owe us." The Nord stood next to his friend with the wrapped head. He flinched as he pulled a knife from under his cloak, the motion aggravating his wound.

Kir grinned, her eyes flashing. "I told you," she held out her hand, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," her hand glowed light blue as a dagger made from light appeared and solidified in her hand.

"I knew it!" The Nord barked. "Damn magic users!"

"Oh, saw my little trick did you?" Kir chuckled. "What?" she shrugged. "It's just a little Iron Flesh, placed on the perfect points to create maximum impact. The rules say no weapons, nothing about defensive spells."

"You owe us that money," he repeated, glancing at the coin pouch in Twyla's hands. "You cheated."

"I did no such thing," Kir moving into a fighting stance. "And we owe you nothing."

"Kir," Twyla nudged her friend.

"Ready?" Kir smiled.

A smile that matched Kir's spread over Twyla's face.

"See," Kir chuckled. "Here's the thing," she held her hands out. "I am the fighter, but Twyla here's the one you have to keep an eye on. She'll sneak into your room at night and slit your throat." The redhead ducked and rolled forward, while Twyla released an arrow that had been hidden behind Kir. It struck the man with the wrapped jaw in the heart, killing him instantly. As she came up out of her roll Kir stabbed the surprised man up under his ribs with her dagger, piercing his lung. "I, on the other hand, want to see the life drain from your eyes."

"Stupid half-breed bitch!" the Nord wheezed.

Kir's eyes widened in rage, her face going pale. "What did you call me?" she twisted the blade, forcing him to cough up blood.

"I said you're a filthy half-breed," he pressed his nose into her face. "With eyes like those, you'll never hide it."

"Look at these eyes closely," Kir growled, "they're the last thing you'll ever see." In one swift motion she pulled the dagger from his side and slit his throat, blood splattered across her face. The Nord tried to cling to his killer as he slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds.

The light blue dagger in Kirs hand cracked and shattered, vanishing. "Come on, Twy," she rolled her right shoulder, holding it with her left hand. "Let's go get dinner."

"Mmmmhmmm," the Breton agreed happily and hurried to catch up to her friend. "Can we have some pie with dinner tonight?" she asked, her eyes full of hope. "I am starving!"

"That sounds wonderful!" Kir nodded. The pair headed towards the Bee and Barb, leaving the two dead Nords behind the Temple.

* * *

"Riften!?" the Keeper squealed in delight. "Cicero likes Riften! Cheats, ruffians, and cutthroats abound!" his voice grew husky as he spoke. "Finally, some fun," he growled.

"No time for games I am afraid, Keeper," Babette took his hand in hers. "We have work to do."

"Oh, yes, yes…" he grinned from ear to ear. "New sisters for the family, new daughters for Mother!" he took the girl's other hand in his and began to twirl her around in a half-hazard waltz.

"Settle down you two," Nazir sighed as he watched the pair dance in the middle of the road. "We are supposed to be inconspicuous."

"Oh, oh yes…" Cicero slowed down the caper. "Sneaking and hiding in plain sight, play my part well, Cicero will!"

"Remember, you need to confirm they are the initiates, nothing more," Nazir eyed the man nervously.

"Don't worry," Babette patted his arm. "I will be with him."

"That worries me more," Nazir chuckled. "I don't know if I can handle anymore insanity than what you two bring to our family."

"We will see, my Dear," Babette smiled, flashing her small fangs.

"Sithis preserve us," the Redguard groaned as they approached the heavily barred gate to Riften.

"Hold it right there!" one of the guards barked. "You have to pay the toll to enter the city!"

"Oh, I see…" Cicero rubbed his chin.

"Papa…" Babette pulled on the sleeve of the Keeper's green tunic. Her eyes were wide and full of fear as she looked up at him. "Why won't the guards let us in? Did we do something wrong?" Her voice was sweet as honey.

"Oh, no, no, no…" The man crooned as he bent down and picked up the girl, holding her lovingly to his chest. "It's okay Dearest Little One."

"I am scared out here in the dark…" the girl raised the pitch of her voice into a wail as she buried her grin into his shoulder.

"Forgive my child," Cicero nodded apologetically. "It is late, the journey was long, she is tired."

"I understand," the guard signaled to his partner. "Got two at home myself, go on in."

"Much obliged, much obliged," Cicero waved as he passed through the stone arch.

"Hey! Darky!" the guards called behind him. He flinched at the use of the racially offensive term, but smiled when he heard Babette stifle a snicker into his chest.

"By the gods, are you serious!?" they heard Nazir bellow. "They didn't have to pay!"

"Yea, well, you ain't them!" the guard yelled back.

Cicero chuckled as he made his way to the local inn.

"Nazir will be furious with us…" Babette grinned.

Cicero only chuckled as he set the child down and took her hand before pushing open the door to the Bee and Barb. The warmth and light from the fire was a heavy contrast to the blistering cold of the night. Even here in Riften, the den of the notorious Thieves Guild, there was laughter and revelry enough to invite even the furthest traveler in. It wasn't long before they noticed two women sitting alone.

"Papa! Papa!" Babette called as she pulled on his hand. "I want to sit at the bar!"

"Alright, alright Dear One," his voice was warm and kind as he followed after the excited girl. "Do you ladies mind if we jooooooiiiiinnnn…" his voice faltered and jumped up a half step when the redhead turned to look at him. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, her cheeks were stuffed with food, and her eyes were indifferent as she took in the sight of the man with his daughter. "…you?" Cicero made a show of pulling Babette protectively to his side.

"We don't mind!" the dark-haired woman's face appeared from behind her friend, her voice cheerful.

"What in Nirn is on your face?" The Keeper asked, trying to look disgusted as he lifted Babette and sat her on a stool.

"Kir won the street brawlers semi-finals tonight!" the Breton spoke again. "She's just dirty from the fights."

"Mmm…" Cicero tried to sound non-committal, but the sound came out too greedy, betraying the growing heat and tightness in his chest as he stared at the red-eyed Imperial.

The woman stopped chewing. Her eyes left Cicero and found their way to Babette, softening when she finally smiled at the girl. Laugh lines gathered around the outside edges of her eyes, making her look older than she had only a moment before, giving away her real age.

"And what's your name, Little Lady?" the woman asked Babette.

"Papa says I can't talk to strangers…" Babette faked shyness, but a smiled stayed on her face.

"Annette," Cicero cut in, his voice soft. He patted the little vampire's shoulder. "It's okay, these ladies are sharing their evening and space with us."

The girl squinted her eyes and leaned forward, pursing her lips. "What is _your_ name?" she stuck out her bottom lip.

"Kir," the woman smiled again. "And this is Twyla."

"Hello!" the Breton waved, as she popped another piece of a baked potato into her mouth.

Cicero sat on the stool next to Babette. "And I am Marcus," he offered a smile, which Kir reluctantly returned.

"Welcome to the Bee and Barb," a raspy voice called his attention to the other side of the bar. "My name is Keerava, what can I get for you tonight?" the Argonian woman smiled, her pointy teeth bared.

Cicero returned her smile, "A baked potato and carrots for myself, and…" he looked at Babette.

"Warm milk, please!" the little nord grinned at the lizard.

"Anything to drink?" she looked to the man.

"No, no, no…" he shook his head. "I am on duty, I, err…" he stammered.

"I understand," the barmaid looked at the girl.

"Miss Kir," Babette pulled on the woman's sleeve.

"Yes?" the woman turned to face the girl, kindness in her eyes.

"You look strong. Do you win lots of fights?" the child's eyes were wide with wonder.

"Oh, that isn't a nice question to ask the Lady," Cicero chuckled.

"Oh, it's okay," she smiled at Babette. "I do, actually, but I lose a lot of them too. It's important to train hard and know your limits."

"Ohhhhhh…" Babette stared in awe. "We traveled from far, far away today… that's sorta like training, right?"

"Traveling is part of training, yes," Kir nodded. "It is important to learn about people from far and wide."

"We are from Dawnstar!" Babette bounced on her stool as the Argonian set their orders in front of them. "Where are you from?"

"Kir is from Windhelm," Twyla offered. "I am from Falkreath."

"But we have traveled all over," Kir took another bite of her own potato.

"Papa, I need to…" Babette made a small motion towards the door.

"Oh," Cicero smiled and chuckled. "This is the problem with raising a daughter with no mother."

"I can take her, if you'd like," Twyla offered. "I understand the frustration of the looks you get as a father taking a girl to the washhouse."

"Oh, would you be so kind?" Cicero helped Babette down from the stool.

"Come on, sweetie," Twyla held out her hand for the girl to take.

Kir and Cicero watched them go.

"Very kind, your friend," Cicero stared at the Imperial sitting before him, his eyes danced with mischief.

"Yea, she is," Kir took another swallow of her ale. "Has a soft spot for kids, that one."

"Your eyes," Cicero purred scooting closer to the woman.

Her face fell, the same dark look that she had when they arrived returned. "They are the eyes of a half-breed, right?" she grumbled.

"Actually, I was going to say they are beautiful," his amber eyes stared at her.

"Oh," she glanced at him, her cheeks burning. "I don't think I have ever been told that before."

He scooted closer. "Perhaps you should have," his voice was dark.

She glared at him. "Just because you caught me off guard doesn't mean I am interested," she turned away, looking back to her food.

He watched her eat, while he pushed his own food around on his plate.

"I like your funny hat!" Babette's voice echoed across the room.

"Who's child is this!?" the Redguard bellowed.

"I am so sorry!" Twyla grabbed her hand and led her back to the bar. "I am sorry, she got away from me," she helped the girl back up onto her stool.

"She is a trouble maker," Cicero patted her head affectionately.

"Papa," the girl yawned. "I am sleepy."

"Alright Small One," he pulled out his coin pouch. "Oh, um… I am afraid after paying for our meal, we won't have enough for a room tonight."

"You can share ours…" Twyla offered.

"Twyla!?" Kir exclaimed.

"What?" she shrugged. "It has two beds. I don't mind sharing with you, if you don't mind."

"We hardly know them!" Kir crossed her arms.

"Yea, but look at her!" she pointed to the small girl. "You can't tell me you'd let her sleep outside on a night this cold."

Kir groaned, "Alright, but on one condition."

"Sure," Twyla winked at Babette.

"You get to sleep on the side closest to them," Kir left a hefty tip on the bar. "I am headed up anyway."

* * *

Cicero made a show of tucking the little Nord in. He whispered to her and she whispered back as he nodded in agreement and chuckled. "Sleep well, my Little One." He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

"Story!" she demanded.

"Oh, Papa is tired," he rubbed his eyes. "Not tonight."

"I will tell you one," Twyla sat down on the bed. "Scoot over." She climbed under the blankets next to the child and wrapped her arm around her. "Okay, are you ready?"

Babette nodded.

"This one is about a female warrior who met a chef on the road to Markarth," Twyla fanned her hands in the air.

Cicero joined Kir at the small table in the corner of the room.

"Many thanks for sharing your bed with us," he slid into the chair across from hers, setting a silver cup before her. He poured a dark liquid from an unmarked bottle, filling the cup. "A token of appreciation."

She took it and drank down a swallow. "This is good…" she muttered glancing at the bottle. "What is it?"

"Brandy," he shrugged and poured some for himself.

"It's a really good quality," she drank the rest. When she set the cup down and looked at the man his smile had turned dark, and his eyes wide with anticipation. "What did you…?" She could feel her limbs growing heavy. She stood from the chair, her legs wobbly. "Twyla!" she glanced to the other woman who was already passed out in the bed.

"You should sit down," he hummed as he twirled the drink in his cup. "Won't be long until you are asleep."

"I'll…" she lurched forward. "I'll kill…" she tried to swing at him, but tripped and landed on top of him.

"Oh dear," he caught her and pulled her into his lap. "It has been a long time since Cicero has had a woman so close that wasn't about to die."

Her eyes went wide. "Who…" she struggled as the drug invaded her system, "… are you?"

"You will learn soon enough," he grinned. "Sleep for now sister," he ran a fingertip along her nose. "Sleep well and Cicero will watch over you."

"Cicero…" she breathed, her brow furrowing as her eyes closed.

"Yes, yes, yes…" Cicero sung as he picked her up and carried her to the empty bed. "Sleep for now sister, Cicero will see you when you wake." He gently placed her under the blankets. "See you and your Dunmer eyes."


	2. Initiation, Oatmeal, and Daedric

Cicero hummed to himself as he laid the smaller Breton next to her friend on the cold stone floor of the cave.

"What in the name of Talos is going on?" the Nord in the corner yelled through the bag on his head.

"Shut up," Nazir kicked the man.

"I demand to speak to whoever is in charge!" the Nord continued to yell.

"I suppose that would be the Keeper," Babette shrugged. "He is the only one here with a title anymore."

"Oooohh…" Cicero giggled, "Cicero is the leader! In that case sweet rolls for everyone, and I demand a dance from our brother here." He motioned to Nazir.

"No." The Reguard's face was stern.

"What if Cicero said pretty please?" the Jester clapped his hands together, resting his chin on them and sticking his bottom lip out in a childish pout.

"No." He repeated.

"Don't ignore me!" the Nord yelled again.

"Will you shut it, I am trying to sleep!" the woman next to him yelled back through the bag on her head. "You act like this is the first time you've been attacked by bandits."

"Bandits, my dear?" Cicero sung as he knelt next to her. "Oh, no… not bandits."

"Whatever," the woman ignored him. "Once you get what you want, you'll send us on our way."

"Yes, yes, yes…" Cicero laughed darkly. "We will send you merrily on your way."

"Cicero, Kir is waking up!" Babette was leaning over the sleeping pair.

The Imperial was stirring in her sleep, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Oh, ho ho ho!" Cicero danced to where the vampire was standing. "Waking up, waking up!"

The woman's arms began to tremble as her hands continued to make fists and loosen again. Her legs began to follow, starting slowly at first, but soon picking up pace as she began to thrash in her sleep.

"Something's not right," Nazir frowned. "What did you give them?" he glared at the Keeper.

"Only, nightshade, only a little of the purple flower in the brandy…" Cicero's eyebrows came together in worry as he stepped away. "Cicero did nothing wrong."

Kir grunted as her legs continued to kick and writhe. Her grunting soon turned into moaning.

"Wake up!" Babette reached down and patted the woman's cheeks until they turned red, but still the Imperial didn't open her eyes. "She is sweating and her temperature is dropping!" the girl pressed her hands to the woman's skin. "There is definitely something wrong with her."

The Breton began to shift next to her convulsing companion. "Kir?" She asked, the word coming out slowly. "Kir… are… you…?" her eyes were half lidded, the nightshade still taking its toll.

"Aaaagggghhhh!" the Imperial let out a scream as her whole body shook, her eyes still closed.

"Kir!" The noise pulled her friend a bit more from her stupor.

"What is wrong with her?" Babette placed her hands on either side of Twyla's face.

"Night…" her eyes were still only half open. "…terrors…"

"What can we do for her?" Babette gave the woman's head a little shake. "Help us help her!"

"She needs…" The Breton couldn't steady herself. "Comfort… comforted."

"Quick, someone…" Babette turned to look at the screaming woman where she had been on the floor only a moment ago, but when she turned around the woman was gone. Babette frantically looked around.

"There, there…" Cicero hummed sweetly as he rocked the woman he had swept up from the floor. She was still trembling and sweating, but she had stopped moaning and yelling. "Keeper is here, forever and always," he ran his finger down her forehead and over her nose. She was curled into his lap, her head resting on his chest as she slowly calmed down, coming down from the fit. Cicero rocked back her and forth slowly, humming softly and smoothing down her hair.

"How did you know?" Babette asked softly as she sat next to him.

"Oh, lonely Cicero understands nightmares…" his voice was soft, but grim. "Cicero understands how the loneliness of one's mind can bite and snare," he pressed a fingertip into the middle of Kir's forehead.

"Where am I?" Twyla groggily looked at the two sitting across from her. "Annette?" she frowned at the girl and turned her eyes to the Jester. "Marcus? What are you wearing?"

"I suppose you should try to wake her now," Babette looked at the sleeping woman's face. "She does seem much better."

"Time for initiation!" The Redguard bellowed gleefully as he hoisted the confused Breton to her knees.

"Initiation?" the woman with the bag over her head mused. "That's one I haven't heard before…"

"And one you won't again," Babette stood up herself, her smile showing off her fangs.

* * *

"Now what?" Kir raised an eyebrow at the onlookers.

"Well,"Nazir frowned. "I think we just go home and celebrate."

"You think?" Kir gaped at him. "We just killed two people in order to join your little club, and you _think_?"

"It has been a very long time since I was an initiate, and our previous leader preferred doing recruitments alone," he shrugged.

" _Wait, wait, wait…" Kir held her right hand out as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with the other. "You are saying that you drugged us, kidnapped us, and spirited us away to the middle of nowhere to initiate us into the Dark Brotherhood?"_

 _Twyla sat silently as she stared at Babette._

" _That is correct," Nazir nodded. "And now you must seal the contract, with blood."_

" _And not our own, I assume," Kir sighed, "since this is an assassins guild."_

 _Cicero was still sitting on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest, a look of anticipation on his face._

" _And you're just alright with all of this?" Kir looked at Twyla, who was still staring at the child._

 _Twyla only shrugged, her gaze unwavering._

" _By the nine!" Kir groaned._

" _You're a vampire!" Twyla exclaimed jumping to her feet and pointing at Babette._

" _I am," Babette grinned._

" _I knew it!" Twyla smiled back. "I knew there was something different about you!"_

" _Twyla!?" Kir growled. "Are you not even a little bothered by all of this?" she waved her arms in the air._

" _Not really," Twyla shrugged again. "We've been looking for something," she looked up at Kir, her eyes meeting the Imperial's. "Maybe this is it."_

" _Alright," Kir sighed. "Alright. Your instincts have never failed us before, and if you are in, I'm in too."_

" _Yes, yes, yes!" Cicero leapt to his feet. "New sisters!"_

 _Kir flinched and glared at the man. "I still can't believe you are the same person we met at the Bee and Barb."_

" _Cicero is sneaky, sneaky…" he grinned. "Cicero does good work."_

" _Here are your contracts," Nazir motioned to the two who were tied up with bags over their heads._

" _I hear talk of the Dark Brotherhood…" the Nord man's voice was nervous. "What is going on?"_

" _Would you shut…" the woman's voice was cut off when an arrow struck the bag over her head. Crimson proof of the deed seeped through the fabric._

 _Kir turned and looked at Twyla, her bow was in her hands. "Did I pass?" she asked excited._

" _You did wonderfully!" Babette clapped her hands. "I didn't even hear you string your bow!"_

 _Kir sighed. "I guess it's my turn." She walked over to the man._

" _Wait, please," he began to beg. "I have money, I can pay you… just please," he was crying. "Spare my life."_

" _Tough luck," Kir straddled the man's legs. "You must have made someone mad for there to be a mark on you," the Nord trembled under her weight. She flexed her left hand as it began to glow blue and frost covered her skin. The Nord gasped in pain as she pressed her palm to his chest. "You damn Nords love the cold so much…" she hissed as she pressed her palm in harder. The ice spread over his torso as the man's breathing became ragged. When he stopped moving Kir stood and looked at the others._

" _How do we know he's dead?" Babette frowned._

" _Yes, it's not as flamboyant as our first friend here," Nazir crossed his arms._

 _Kir sighed. She turned back around, facing the still Nord. Pulling her leg back she swung it forward, kicking him in the chest, it shattered under the impact, leaving a hole in his torso._

 _Cicero squealed in joy as he danced around the cave._

" _Now what?" Kir asked as she looked back to them._

* * *

"By Sithis himself…" Kir breathed in awe as they entered the main room of the Sanctuary.

"It's beautiful!" Twyla exclaimed throwing her arms around Babette.

"What is that?" Kir frowned at the large silver sarcophagus sitting off to the side of the entrance.

"Oooooohhhhh!" Cicero's eyes lit up. "This is the shrine to the Night Mother!" he danced over to the coffin. "Closed for now," he ran his fingers along the metal. "One cannot gaze upon her beauty before the Keeper performs the ritualistic cleansings…" his voice grew dark, and his face matched.

"There were mice near her…" Babette whispered to her new sisters.

They both nodded as if they understood.

"Filthy, filthy…" Cicero stamped his feet. "Vile, loathsome creatures, leaving their mess all over Mother's shrine!" He pulled down on his hat as he continued to throw a fit.

"Hey, hey!" Kir reached for his wrists. "Calm down," she tried to smile. "You'll get her cleansed, it's alright."

Cicero froze, his arms still in the air over his head and Kir's fingers wrapped round his gloves.

"Oh, uh…" Kir stepped back and released his arms. "Sorry, I didn't mean to invade your space or anything…"

"New sister is most kind," He eyed her slyly.

"Come on!" Babette pulled on Twyla's sleeve. "I want to show you around!"

Nazir laughed as the pair scampered off. "It's been too long since we had new comers," he sighed and crossed his arms.

"I hate to be the dragon to rampage the town, but I need to sleep," Kir rolled her shoulders. "And have my shoulder fixed."

Nazir frowned. "Your shoulder?"

"It's still not quite where it should be," she frowned. "Twyla was supposed to fix it before we went to bed, but someone drugged us before that happened." She glared at the Keeper.

"Let me look at it," he walked around to her right side and rested his hand on it. "Does this hurt?" He applied some pressure to the upper arm.

"Not too bad," she shrugged her good arm.

"You need to take this armor off," he ran his fingers over the soft leather. "This is very fine armor."

"Thanks," she smiled curtly. "It was a gift from a friend."

"A good friend," he turned her in a circle. "A _very_ good friend."

"It was from a male friend," Twyla grinned mischievously as she rounded the corner, returned from her romp with Babette.

"Wait a second," Nazir frowned.

"A _very_ good bed companion?" Cicero sang, as he approached them from behind, the smile on his face matching Twyla's.

"I don't know about that," Twyla crossed her arms. "They only met up twice."

"Twyla!" Kir's face was burning with blush.

"Twice?" Cicero raised an eyebrow. "Twice, and such a fine gift?"

"She's very good," Twyla leaned in closer to the Keeper, feigning a whisper.

"Seriously, Twyla!" Kir roared. "Shut up!"

" _Very_ good," the Breton winked at Cicero.

"This is Thieve's Guild Armor!" Nazir snapped his fingers. "I knew I had seen it somewhere."

Kir rolled her eyes and covered her face with her left hand. "By the Divines, what have I done to myself?" she mumbled.

"Seriously though," Twyla laughed lightly. "I do need to fix your shoulder, so you need to take your armor off." The dark haired girl looked around. "Right here will be perfect!" She plopped down on the wooden bench before the Night Mother's shrine.

The Keeper stiffened. "What will the new sisters be doing?" he nervously gaged their proximity to the sarcophagus.

"We won't get close to it," Kir worked on undoing the seemingly endless number of buckles across her chest. She sat down on the stone floor next to where Twyla was perched on the bench. "Please try to make it quick," she pulled off the top portion of her armor and laid it on the floor, leaving only her chest bindings on. The bruise from the untreated injury was a deep purple, covering her entire shoulder and down a good portion of her right arm.

Cicero's eyebrows knitted together. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Foolish Cicero!" he scolded himself. "Ignoring the new sister's injuries…" he muttered glumly.

"It's alright," Twyla smiled at him. "You didn't know."

Kir flinched as she lay down and held her wrist out for the other woman to take hold of. "It's not the first time, and I am sure it won't be the last…" She bit her bottom lip as Twyla placed her feet on either side of her shoulder.

"Ready?" The Breton asked her friend.

Sweat was already forming on Kir's brow, but she clamped down on one of the leather straps from her armor with her teeth and closed her eyes, tightly.

"One, two…" The Breton heaved on the arm with a quick motion. The sickening crack that came from the woman's shoulder filled the Sanctuary.

Kir's eyes flew open in pain, her pupil's dilated.

"Three," Twyla released her wrist. "We need to get her to a bed, so she can sleep most of the pain off." Twyla felt Kir's forehead.

Without a word Cicero bent down and scooped up the almost unconscious Imperial. He smiled softly as he carried her limp form to the shared bed chamber. "Sleep deeply and soundly," he whispered to her. "May Sithis mold your pain," he gently laid her down in one of the many vacant beds and began to remove the rest of her armor. "And use it to make you stronger," he smiled as he pulled a blanket up over her. "I will pray to Mother for you tonight, that she will hold you close and welcome you home, newest sister." He pressed his fingertip into the middle of her forehead. "No bad dreams tonight," he pulled his finger down over her nose. "Keeper must oil Mother, can't come in a comfort you."

Twyla stood in the doorway of the communal bedchamber, Babette at her side. "I don't think I have ever seen someone be so gentle with Kir before," there was a smile on her face.

"The Keeper is," Babette pressed her lips together as she searched for a word. "Intuitive." She nodded to herself. "He knows how to Keep, very well."

"Intuitive?" Twyla looked down at the small vampire. "That will be good for Kir, she likes to hide herself away."

"We all do, dear." Babette took Twyla's hand, "Come on, let's go find something to occupy our time, leave the Keeper to his work."

* * *

Kir yawned and stretched her left arm up over her head, the motion was stiff and caused pain to shoot across her back and down her right arm. Groggily she opened her eyes, frantically looking around as she struggled to remember where she was. Memories of the twenty-four hours prior flooded her mind and she let out a small groan.

"What have we done?" she pushed herself up, struggling to use her dominant arm. Reaching for her shoulder her fingers were met by a sticky substance running down her arm from under the shoulder sling that had been wrapped around her. The soft black leather was held down with matching leather straps that seemed fitted to her torso. She slowly ran her fingers over it, admiring the fine craftsmanship. She tried shifting her shoulder, the sling held it firmly in place while allowing enough movement for her to lift her arm.

"It's a very nice piece, isn't it?" Nazir spoke up. "That fool was up all night working on it."

Kir looked to where the older Redguard was laying in his bed. "Who?" she continued to trail her fingers along the leather.

"The Keeper," Nazir rolled his eyes. "Making all sorts of damn noise," he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Babette left that for you as well." He nodded towards her.

Sitting on the side table next to where she had been sleeping was as small red bottle with a s sign around it's neck reading: 'Drink me.'

"Between the paste she smeared all over your shoulder and that potion, you should begin to feel better soon." Nazir smiled at her.

Kir picked up the bottle and popped the top off. "Oh," her nose wrinkled. "It smells foul."

"I can guarantee it tastes worse," he chuckled. "But Babette is an amazing alchemist, it will work immediately."

Kir frowned as she held the bottle towards him. "Bottoms up." She tried to drink it down fast, but Nazir was right, it tasted worse than it smelled. She coughed half of it back up, but the pain relief was almost instant.

Nazir laughed a deep, resonating laugh as he hoisted himself out of bed, "Come on sister, let's get some breakfast."

Kir scooted in next to Babette at the table. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I like to join my siblings in their partaking of the morning meal, otherwise I would never see any of you," she smiled.

Kir just nodded as she accepted the bowl of oatmeal Nazir slid across the table to her. "Thank you," she winced as she felt the tension in her shoulder at the pulling motion.

"Does it still hurt?" Babette frowned.

"No," Kir tried to roll it. "It's just stiff and I can feel it pull when I try to use it."

"I should change that paste before I turn in," Babette rubbed her chin, the seriousness on her face seemed out of place and Kir found herself longing for the vampire's grin.

"Oh, you mean the mammoth spit that is running down my arm?" she gave the girl a nudge, trying to get a reaction from her.

"How does a mammoth get ready for a long journey!?" Cicero yelled at us as he leaned over the railing from the Night Mother's shrine.

He giggled to himself, his hand clamped over his mouth as he waiting for an answer. "He packs his trunk!" he roared with laughter as he disappeared again beyond the rail.

Kir leaned closer to the girl, "Is he always that strange?" Her eyes were still fixed on the railing.

"Always," Babette rolled her eyes, but Kir noted affection in her smile. "But he is kind, and loves the family." Babette took a swallow of the dark red liquid Nazir had provided for her. "He is also one of my only siblings that will stay awake with me at night."

"When does he sleep?" Kir rested her head on her hand.

"His schedule is erratic to say the least," Babette twirled her cup. "I don't think he could even tell you what year it is, let alone if it is day or night. Sometimes he will change clothes and sleep in a bed, but mostly you will find him slumped in a chair, over a table or simply curled up before the Night Mother."

"Yea…" Kir glanced back up at the shrine. "What is with him and that old corpse anyway?" she leaned in and asked in a hushed voice.

Babette's eyes widened as she nervously looked up where the Keeper had been standing. "I don't think he heard you…" she mumbled. "I won't reprimand you because you are new and do not know our ways yet, but you need to be careful about the words and tone you use when speaking of our Dread Matron, especially around Cicero."

Kir nodded, her eyes wide as well.

Babette laid her hand out on the table. "You have heard of the Black Hand, the mark of the Brotherhood, correct?"

"Of course, everyone has," Kir took a bite of her breakfast.

"Five fingers on a hand, five tenants, five leaders within the family," the small girl tapped her fingers on the table top. "I will begin with the tenants as they are most important, and you need to remember them well. Tenant one," she held up her index finger, "the most important, _never_ dishonor the Night Mother." Babette glanced back to where Cicero was singing near the shrine. "The Keeper tried to kill our last leader for claiming authority over the Night Mother, he would have killed her if he hadn't been chased off by another brother."

Kir looked back towards the shrine, "That's… intense."

"That is the first tenant, _never_ dishonor the Night Mother, to do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis," Babette smiled. "Tenant Two," she continued. "Never betray the Dark Brotherhood, or its secrets."

Kir nodded slowly, "That makes sense."

"That is another tenant our last leader broke, another reason I am sure Cicero saw her to be unfit as a leader." Babette's voice was calm as she spoke of her past family, but Kir could hear hints of darkness in her voice. "Tenant Three, never disobey, or refuse to carry out an order a Dark Brotherhood superior."

"Define superior," Kir stuck another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth.

"Well, it doesn't mean seniority, it has to do with titles," Babette held up her hand again. "Five fingers, five tenants, five leaders."

Kir nodded, trying to remember the sequence.

"This particular one is simple right now, Cicero is the only family member with a title and therefore the only one truly capable of giving an order, and he doesn't seem interested in actually leading anything. In the old days when the Brotherhood was spread over all of Tamriel, Speakers were needed who oversaw the Sanctuaries for the one Listener," Babette wiggled her thumb. "The Listener is the highest position within the Brotherhood, second only to Mother and the Dread Lord himself. The Keeper is the only position closest to the Listener, and that position is only active due to the Night Mother's crypt being desecrated and her sarcophagus pulled up from under the Lady Luck statue in the great cleansing of Cyrodiil."

"What does the Listener do?" Kir licked her spoon. "It must be important if they are so high up, where is our Listener?"

"The Listener is the one person, chosen by the Night Mother herself, to hear the prayers of the Black Sacrament. They commune with the Night Mother, hearing her voice and carrying out her orders within the family. The Listener relays these orders to the four Speakers," Babette wiggled her fingers. "And they would send their Silencers," the girl rapped her nails on the table. "To execute the will of Sithis."

"Silencers?" Kir's nose wrinkled. "This is far more complicated than I would have ever expected a den of assassins to be."

"We are far more than simple assassins my dear," Babette smiled. "We are the children of the Night Mother, family to one another and worshippers of the Dark Master of The Void. Every soul we send to Sithis is cleansed and offered up as incense in a temple. We are priests, taking the offerings of the masses and delivering them straight to our god." Babette's voice was dark and her eyes were filled with passion.

Kir sat in silence.

Babette took another swallow of her drink. "But I digress," her voice flited back to its normal girlish charm. "Silencers are assigned to a Speaker, they are the only member of the Brotherhood above the tenants involving family members, they are allowed to seek justice within our ranks when a Purification is needed. That however, will have to wait until later," the small vampire could see Kir struggling to hold all the information she was being given. "Let's stick to the basics for now."

"Tenant four, never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother, or a Dark Sister," Babette took another sip of the dark liquid. "This one is also simple to obey, as family members there isn't much owned by individuals, and many are open to trading or sharing what few items we do hold as personal property. It is somewhat common for siblings to take small tokens from a job they found particularly personal, but we are not the Thieves' Guild, if you want to steal things you are welcome to return to Riften."

"I generally don't steal things, but you might want to tell Twyla about these rules, she has some deft fingers," Kir finished off her oatmeal and sighed.

"We covered all of this last night," Babette finished her drink. "We stayed up late."

"Oh, really?" Kir raised an eyebrow and looked around the dining area, "Is that why she isn't here this morning?"

"Probably," Babette said sheepishly, "Cicero and I kept her up really late."

"Hmmm…" Kir pursed her lips, but a smile stayed on them.

"Last tenant, I promise," Babette smiled. "Finally, never kill a Dark Brother, or a Dark Sister." Babette's eyes grew distant. "There are exceptions to this rule, but they are only to be carried out by a superior, specifically the Silencers." She pushed her cup away, sliding it across the table. "Our numbers are thin and our work perilous enough without the worry of siblings killing siblings."

"Thank you," Kir stood from her seat and took the girl's cup, "For the lesson. I will do my best to remember what you have taught me, and make the best sister I can."

"Of course," Babette stifled a yawn. "I am happy to help."

Kir chuckled, "You should head to bed. Don't worry about my shoulder, it will be alright for today."

Babette nodded. "See the Keeper if it begins to bother you," she stood from her seat as well. "He knows where I stored the potions and can change it out for you."

"Thank you again, sister," Kir smiled as she turned and took their dishes to where Nazir was washing. She ticked each of the tenants off in her mind. Do not disrespect the Night Mother. Do not betray the family. Do not disobey an order. Do not steal from family. Do not kill family.

Kir paused at the bottom of the stairs, she wished to pray and ask for forgiveness from the Night Mother for her previous comments, hoping that her newness would be enough to suffice. She could hear the Keeper humming as he busied himself with tending to the shrine. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly to center herself, she silently reminded herself to remain composed around the Keeper and respect his position, no matter her personal feelings towards him. With a short lesson under her belt, she couldn't claim ignorance anymore. She forced herself to climb the stairs.

"Oh, new sister wishes to visit Mother?" Cicero's sing-song voice called to her when she reached the top.

Kir nodded and tried to return his smile.

The Keeper was arranging huge candelabras around the sarcophagus, the giant silver holders matched the circular coffin that held their Matron. Kir figured she should wait until he was done to offer her prayers and repentance. So she sat on the small wooden bench and folded her hands in her lap.

"What does newest sister wish from Mother?" Cicero asked, his back to her as he began to add large dark colored candles to the four foot tall holders.

"I was wanting to over prayers," Kir grimaced at her own words. "But I am not sure what all that requires," she confessed. "I have never been much of one for gods, Divines or otherwise."

"Mmm hmm," with that the Keeper turned around and faced her. "Cicero believes Mother would never turn an eye away from a truly devoted child," he grinned. "She hears all that is offered up, even if she doesn't reply."

"She replies to the Listener, doesn't she?" Kir asked, trying to recall all the details about the highest rank Babette had shared.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes…" Cicero's eyes glimmered. "Mother speaks to the Listener," he covered the distance between them in two leaps. "In here," he pressed a fingertip to her forehead. "I hear it's..." he grinned darkly, "…intimate."

"But!" he leapt backwards. "Mother hasn't chosen a Listener," his smile faded. "No matter how hard he tries Cicero cannot find the Listener, and the Keeper is unworthy of hearing Mother's voice…" Cicero prattled on as he returned to his work of placing candles around the shrine.

Kir frowned. She could hear him speaking, but it was like he was slowing down.

 _Jioo de yaepi, Hexwimio._

"What?" Kir called to him. She couldn't understand what he was saying anymore. "What did you say?"

The Keeper turned and looked at her, but his smile fell when he saw her. "Sister?" concern etched across his face.

 _E koii qkaxin eae wa kioo me taodx._

"Sister?" Cicero called to Kir again.

Her face was contorted as if she were in pain, but her eyes were glossed over. He crossed the room to where she was sitting. "Newest sister?" he knelt before her, resting his hands on her knees. Her mouth hung open and she was beginning to moan.

"Un-child!" Cicero called for the alchemist. "Small One, hurry!" He reached up and patted Kir's cheeks. The movement caused the tears that had been building in her eyes to fall down her cheeks, the water was mingled with blood. "Babette!" Cicero yelled, his voice rising in pitch. "Newest sister is having a fit!"

"I am here!" Babette rounded the corner with a basket swung over her arm. "By Sithis, what happened?" the vampire wiped the blood streaks from the Imperials cheeks, but they were quickly replaced by more falling from her eyes. "It's coming out of her ears too…" Babette ran her fingers down the blood that was running down Kir's neck.

A low moan rose from within the woman's chest.

"I have never seen anything like this…" Babette stepped back. "We should quarantine her, it might be an infection."

"Na maw nexjamao wji Mekjw Dawjio." Kir moaned.

"What is she speaking?" Babette turned to Nazir who had joined them near the shrine.

"Na maw qiwooe wji Qoawjiojaan." She moaned again.

"I have never heard that before." Nazir frowned.

"Na maw nexaqie om aonio." Kir's limbs were beginning to shake.

"I think she is having a seizure!" Babette caught her as she pitched forward.

"Na maw xwioh load wji lodehe." She was convulsing as Babette held her head steady, blood still running down her cheeks and from her ears.

"Sithis preserve us…" Nazir breathed as he stepped back further.

"Na maw fehh o lodehe didqio." Kir moaned as her whole body shook.

Cicero was frantically trying to pull the protective cloth over the Night Mother's sarcophagus.

"It's daedric," Twyla breathed from where she had stopped at the top of the stairs.

Nazir looked at the Breton. "How does she know Daedric?"

"As far as I know," Twyla stared at her convulsing friend. "She doesn't."

"How do you know Daedric?" he made his way to stand next to her.

"My father used to read to us from his books about the Divines and the Daedra to keep our minds off of our hunger," Twyla's eyes were wide. "I don't understand her, but I recognize the sound of it."

"Noofmixx oexix, tjim xehimpi neix." Kir moaned.

Cicero froze. He slowly turned around and faced the shaking woman on the floor. "What did she say?" his eyes were wide with fear.

Babette shrugged. "I will be happy if she lives," the vampire was fighting tears. "I am not worried about what she is saying."

The Keeper kept his eyes locked on Kir. "She has to say it again," he fell to his knees beside her and took her hand in his. "You have to say it again."

Kir's eyes widened and her convulsions worsened. "Noofmixx oexix, tjim xehimpi neix!" She yelled.

"Again!" The Keeper yelled in return. "I have to hear them in the tongue of man!"

Kir gripped his hand. "Darkness rises, when silence dies!" She shouted before her whole body went limp, she was unconscious.

"The Binding Words," Cicero breathed. "She spoke The Binding Words."

Silence fell over the Sanctuary.

"So, Kir is…" Babette stammered as she brushed some of the woman's hair from her face.

"The Listener…" Cicero whispered as tears fell down his cheeks.

* * *

 **I did use a Daedric Translator that I found online for the bits in this chapter that weren't in English, so if they are wrong, I am sorry!**


	3. Old Haunts, Murals, and Daedric Shit

"I am calling to you, little one," the melodic voice reached me, even in my deep sleep. "It is time to wake up."

"Mo…" My eyelids were heavy, "Momma?" I rubbed them, trying to work out the burning. Finally forcing them open I strained to focus on the wall before me, it was familiar. My breathing caught in her chest, and my heart grew cold with fear. The worn wooden wall had lines carved into it, they were half-hazardly drug across the grain, like crop rows dug by a blind man. Slowly I reached out, my whole hand shaking as I let my fingertips rest against the lines. I knew these lines, I had dug them. I cried out in pain as I yanked my hand away from the wall, my fingertips bloody stumps and my nails cracked and pulling away from the beds. I shoved them in my mouth, just as I had done as a child but gagged when the only flavor I was met with was dirt. I pulled them out, they were back to normal.

"No," I gasped. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening!"

"Come to me daughter," the same voice called to her. "I have waited long enough to see you."

I didn't want to roll over, I didn't want to see the door that I knew was there, always closed, shutting me away from the rest of the world. Yet the voice calling to me was compelling. Every time it rolled over me I felt a warmth I had not felt in a long time, not since my mother would rock me as a child.

"Mother?" I bit my bottom lip so hard I thought it would break the skin. I braced myself for the sight of the looming door before rolling over.

The door was open.

I jerked upright in the bed. The door was never left hanging open like that. Sometimes father would open it, bring me food, or take me out for a few days. He had to keep up appearances as a caring father, I still attended school and went to festivals, but mostly the door was closed, with me inside. A new found sense of bravery flared in my chest and I slipped down from the bed, quietly creeping across the room and peeked around the edge of the doorway. The hall was empty, but there was something wonderful cooking over the hearth, the smell was filling the whole house. Crouching down, I rounded the doorway, crept down the hall and onto the stairs.

"You shouldn't creep around in the shadows when I give you an order," the woman sitting at the table grumbled, not bothering to look at me as I stayed crouched on the stairs.

The woman's legs rested up over the edge, and her bare feet were tucked together, hanging off the edge, I almost laughed thinking of how upset my father would be to see someone, a Dunmer even, sitting at his table like that. I obeyed her command and stood, making my way to the opposing end of the table.

"Who are you?" I admired the woman's beauty, I had never in my life seen a woman who held herself with such dignity and authority, despite lounging in the modest surroundings. Her large eyes were the traditional Dunmer eyes, almond shaped with crimson irises; however this woman's sclera were black. Her hair was long, easily to the small of her back if she had been standing, and was as black as a starless night sky.

The woman's eyes flited to mine at the question and held my gaze. "I am the woman who calls to her children, beckoning them to come home, into the loving arms of Sithis and the Void." Her smile, while dark, was just as beautiful as I could have dreamed.

Then it hit me like a sack of potatoes. "You're…" I could feel a new wave of panic rise in my chest. "You're the Night Mother!" I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead to the floorboards.

"Yes, my dear daughter," I could feel the woman's hand against the back of my head, as she stroked my hair. "I am the Mother of the Dark Brotherhood, I am your Mother."

"Forgive my impertinence!" I closed my eyes, not daring to look even at the feet of the deity standing before me.

" _Never dishonor the Night Mother,"_ Babette's words rang in my ears. _"To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis."_

"Oh my dear," the woman laughed. "You are to be my Listener, you are allowed to look upon me, to speak to me, to even…" the pressure left my head as she pulled away, "present requests to me."

I slowly stood back up, but kept my eyes down, so as not to insult her. "What do you mean I am to be your Listener?"

"I have chosen you," she returned to sitting in the chair, "to hear the prayers of those who cry out to Sithis in the dark, to hear my voice."

"But," my brow furrowed, "forgive me, I still do not understand, I am new to the family."

"Do not dishonor the Night Mother," the woman growled. "Repeat it."

"I…" I opened my mouth to argue, but was cut off.

"Do not dishonor the Night Mother!" the woman yelled, slamming her hands on the table. "Repeat, Listener!"

"Do not dishonor the Night Mother!" I yelled, my voice rising in pitch and my hands clenched at my sides. Perhaps it was being in my parent's home, or the commanding presence of the Night Mother, but I was feeling as small as a child.

"Do not betray the family," the woman sat back in the chair.

"Do not betray the family," I repeated.

"Do not disobey an order," the woman continued, her voice growing lower.

"Do not disobey an order," I clenched her teeth against the pain rising in my head.

"Do not steal from family," the woman's voice was a growl.

"Do not steal from family," I gasped as the pain grew in intensity.

"Do not kill family," the woman hissed the final tenant.

"Do not kill family!" Kir clapped my hands to my head, fighting against the pain.

"These will be burned into your mind," the woman stood from her chair, "you will keep them as a part of your very existence, as you draw each breath you will remember them." She returned to standing before me, and reached for my face. "Accept them, accept me."

"Yes," I held my head up as the Night Mother wiped the tears from my cheeks. Her touch was gentle, much like I remember my birth mother's being, "Mother."

"I have not chosen you idly," she continued to hold my face in her hands. "You are strong, and you can carry the family out of the depths of despair."

"Yes, Mother." I opened her eyes and looked at the woman standing before me.

"I have a job for you my dearest daughter," the woman stroked my hair again. "There is a lost brother, one who has served Sithis loyally for years despite being outside the family. His heart is strong, and his love for sending souls to the Dread Lord even stronger."

I nodded.

"Bring him home," Mother commanded. "I have heard his prayers, and I have seen his dedication to the cause displayed over and over again. I wish to hold him safe in the arms of Sanctuary."

"Of course, Mother," I smiled softly. I could see kindness in her face as she spoke of the missing brother, she cared for us and desired to have as one in the Brotherhood.

"You will find him in the prison in Whiterun," the woman turned and walked back to the chair. "Free him, bring him home and present him to me. Only then will I allow the prayers to flow."

The room around where the woman sat was growing dark, as if unseen candles were being snuffed. I could feel something reaching for me from behind, but I couldn't move to face it.

"Oh, and another thing," she raised her hand in the air. "The Binding Words, for my dear, sweet Keeper, he has waited too long to hear them."

"Yes, Mother?" I was straining to hear her, the world was rapidly falling away, being replaced by darkness and a loud rushing sound.

"Darkness rises when silence dies!" She called as she roared with laughter.

I was sucked into the darkness and felt myself floating away into unconsciousness.

* * *

It felt as though I had floated through the vast darkness for eternity, and yet it seemed as though it had all been in a moment. I was embraced in the arms of the Void, and felt as though I had finally found my true home.

When the pull of consciousness began to lift the weight of the darkness from my mind I could hear humming in the distance. As the edges of my vision began to lighten, and I became aware of my own body inch by inch, I was reminded of reality. The humming grew louder. The song was soft, almost familiar.

My eyes opened, straining to focus on the ceiling above me. It wasn't the ceiling that had been in the communal bed chamber. What was floating above me was vast and had a beautiful mural painted across it. The paint was faded, but I could still make out the five small skulls surrounding the shrouded woman reaching out towards the man wrapped in the robes of the Dark Brotherhood, the familiar black hand print a stark contrast to the deep crimson of the hooded cloak. There were details that had been lost to time surrounding them, intricate patterns I could no longer make out, but they seemed as if they were important. I struggled to understand why someone would have allowed something so beautiful be allowed to fall into disrepair.

"Awake?" a singsong voice called. "Yes, yes awake!"

I groaned, I knew that voice. I tried to sit up, but found myself unable to gather the strength to do so all the way, I ended up flailing around while making guttural, throaty noises. It would have been comical, if I hadn't been in such a foul mood. He head was pounding and I ached all over.

"Oh, no, no, no…" Cicero's face appeared in my field of vision, obscuring the mural. "Listener should not try to move, the Small One gave many potions, no telling when the effects will be gone…"

"Wh…" I tried to frown but the muscles in my face felt numb. "Where…?"

"Oh, oh yeeesss…" the Keeper purred. "Listener is in her new chambers. Isn't fitting you know, someone of the Listener's rank sleeping with the rest of the family… unless…" he raised an eyebrow, "the Listener enjoys a romp with family."

"Ugh." The noise that escaped my mouth was filled with almost as much disgust as I was.

Cicero continued to hum as he shifted pillows around above my head. "Listener need not worry," he tucked his hands up under my arm pits, "oh, no, no, no… Cicero is the Keeper, and as long as he is the Keeper he will care for the Listener." He hoisted me up so I was sitting in the bed, leaning back against the pile of pillows. Removing his gloves he pulled up the sleeves of his motley and began to undo the bindings on my shoulder. It was good that I couldn't move, because I would have jerked away at his touch.

I watched him pull the wrappings off with skilled fingers, rolling them up and setting them aside. I have been to many healers in my days as a fighter, but had never seen someone work so quickly and efficiently. He poured oil from a black bottle into his hands and rubbed them together; bring the oil to a warm temperature. Gingerly he rested his hands on my still bruised skin. "Tell Cicero if it hurts," he began to probe the muscles in my shoulder, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. I stared at him as he worked. His amber eyes were intense as he pressed his fingers into the muscles, pushing them this way and that, searching for tender places. As his fingers made their way up my arm I began to feel the flare of pain in her shoulder, causing my arm to flinch and pull away on its own.

"Oh," he clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Listener's shoulder still needs to be wrapped." He poured more oil into his hands and applied it to my shoulder before tightly wrapping it in new bandages. "When the Listener is able to get up and move," he placed the leather sling on the table next to the bed, "she will need to wear her sling. Cicero will get food for the Listener, something warm and filling." He continued to mumble to himself as he gathered some items and left me alone in the gigantic room.

I let my eyes wonder as I struggled to move my head around better, it felt as though it were flopping side to side. The room I had been left in was easily double the size of the communal bedchamber and was filled with furniture, that while old, was of high quality. The wood on the chest at the bottom of the bed, the table and chair in the center of the room and the dresser were all shining and dust free, as though they had been cleaned and polished. My heart leapt when I saw my travel bag resting on the chest, I didn't even realize it had been brought with us, I assumed the brown satchel had been left in Riften.

"Kir?" a soft voice called from the doorway Cicero had left through.

"Twyla!" I smiled, seeing the face of my friend peek around the edge of the heavy wooden door.

"I was so afraid you would never wake up!" the Breton ran to the bed, tears forming in her eyes, she climbed onto the huge bed and curled up next to me. "It all happened so fast, and the Keeper wouldn't let anyone but Babette near you," she was beginning to sound panicked. "You've been asleep for two whole days! The others keep whispering about you, saying that you are important here now, that you are the Listener." Her voice had risen in pitch and she was beginning to actually cry.

"It's okay, Twy…" I strained, lifted my arm and wrapped it around the her small shoulders, "I am alright, and I am here."

"Are you though?" Twyla's eyes widened. "Are you really the Listener?"

I sighed. I had been praying that whatever I had dreamed had been just that, a dream. "I…" I closed my eyes searching, for answers.

" _I have chosen you,"_ Mother's voice echoed in my mind, _"to hear the prayers of those who cry out to Sithis in the dark, to hear my voice."_

"I think I am," I could feel my eyebrows raise, surprised at my own conclusion. "And I think I am supposed to tell the Keeper something… something that is meant for him."

"The Binding Words?" Twyla sat up, looking me in the eyes. "He said you would know them."

"I…" my heart was pounding in my ears. "I… I do."

Twyla's eyes grew wide. "You…" she pulled away from my side. "You are the Listener then! That's what they said, they said you would know them and that those words would make you the Listener!"

"It's not the words that make her the Listener," Babette was standing in the doorway. "It is the one who gave them to her, the one who chose to tell her the words."

Cicero appeared behind the small vampire. "It is the voice of the Night Mother that makes her the Listener" the Keeper was carrying a tray filled with food. He moved around Babette and set the tray down on the table. "I must ask everyone to leave," his voice was serious.

Twyla glanced towards me again, as she scooted to the edge of the bed. I nodded, assuring her that I was fine.

'Call me if you need me.' Twyla moved her hands in gestures only the two of us knew.

Again, I nodded.

Cicero stood silently by the table, watching both Twyla and Babette leave us alone. He quickly crossed the room and closed the door behind them, latching it shut.

"What is it Keeper?" I tried to sound official and unamused, but I could hear the shaking in my own voice.

"You need to say them again," his mouth was turned down in a scowl. "I must hear them from you, from your mouth, with your voice."

Again? What did he mean again? I crossed my arms, trying to keep my trembling hands from becoming obvious, what was it about this man that made me so nervous?

"Again?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"The Listener screamed much in her sleep," he slowly began to move towards me, like a cat stalking its prey. "Crying out for Gurak, weeping for hours, and then screaming out the words," he was at the foot of the bed now. "The Binding Words."

"Yes," Having my arms wrapped round my chest was making it hard to breathe, I was beginning to feel as though the room was shrinking on me. "I do know them, Mother told me The Binding Words are for you."

"For Cicero?" he pursed his lips, his eyebrows arched down in confusion. "No, no, no," he shook his head. "The Binding Words are for confirmation, to ensure that the Listener is true."

I shrugged, "All I know is that she said they were for you, her 'dear, sweet Keeper'."

A pink tinge covered the fair skin on his cheeks as he took in my words, and a soft smile covered his face. "Mother knows poor Cicero? Yes, yes, yes. Mother hears the prayers of all her children, even the foolish Keeper… but she called Cicero, her Keeper," he was mumbling as his smile continued to grow. He looked almost childish in his glee.

"Darkness rises when silence dies," I offered up the precious words.

His head jerked up, his eyes wide. "Say them again," in one leap he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Darkness rises when silence dies?" it sounded like a question, perhaps I had remembered them wrong.

He took my hands in his, tears filling his eyes, threatening to spill over the brims of his eyelids. "Again, please… for poor, foolish Cicero."

His face was filled with such happiness, but I couldn't ignore the sadness in his shoulders, the ache and longing in buried deep in his eyes.

"Darkness rises," I spoke the words softly, like a mother comforting her sleeping child. Like I imagined Mother would tell them to him. "When silence dies."

Cicero closed his eyes, tears running silently down his face. "Dear, sweet Mother," he whispered, "Now poor, loyal Cicero hears your words."

"How long have you been waiting to hear those words?" I asked as he released my hands.

"A long time," he stood up. "A very long time," he raised his arms over his head, stretching up as far as he could and leaning to the side. He suddenly looked worn and tired. "Ever since the banging in the deep it has been only Mother and Cicero. Cicero offered up songs, jokes, and words to try and please Mother, to make her happy. Mother remained silent, like a grave." He made his way to the table and began to place the plates of food out. "Mother was waiting," his goofy lop sided grin returned as he swung around to face me, holding the tray out in one hand. "Waiting for the lovely Kir, the goddess of death herself," his eyes flashed.

"Wait," I frowned. "Where did you hear that from?"

"Forgive me, great Listener," he bowed with a flourish. "Cicero is tired and needs to rest so he can oil Mother tomorrow."

My mouth pressed into a line, I pushed away the terrible images that appeared in my mind at the idea of this man oiling anything. "Thank you," I managed to mutter as I threw the blanket off my legs. "You are dismissed, I guess…" I waved my hand in the air. "And please," I called as his hand rested on the door handle. "Don't tell anyone what you told me, about my name."

"Of course," he grinned evilly, "Listener."

* * *

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," I rolled my eyes as I firmly set my chin in my hand. "All I know is what I told you, she said we will find him in the prison in Whiterun, and just that we are to bring him home."

"How?" Nazir sighed rubbing his temples. "How are we supposed to know who he is, and how are we supposed to bring him home? Assassinate all of Whiterun?"

Babette giggled, "That could prove to be amusing in its own way."

"No," I crossed my arms. "I think we need to do this discreetly. Mother didn't say there were contracts, marks, or even prayers involved in this task, only that we were to bring him home."

"Ppphhffftt…" Cicero stuck out his tongue as he set down the plate of bread and cheese on the table before us. "Jobs with no killings… Cicero never would have believed it if it wasn't from the mouth of the Listener herself…" he shook his head as he pushed the plate towards me. "Eat. Listener doesn't eat enough."

"I eat plenty," I scowled. Aside from the few hours of sleep the Keeper had requested when I had first awoken, he hadn't left my side since I had been named Listener.

" _Is the Listener cold?"_

" _Does the Listener require a bath?"_

" _A book?"_

" _A foot rub?"_

" _Please say the words again, last time, Cicero swears!"_

I was going mad.

Twyla loved it. She encouraged him every chance she got.

" _The Listener looks tired, doesn't she?"_

" _It is rather cold in here, isn't it Kir?"_

" _Are you hungry dear sister?"_

She ignored my glares and protests, continuing to push him at me, like an annoying puppy in love with the wrong owner.

"Still, if it is ordered from the Night Mother, I guess we need to step out in faith and just head to Whiterun," Nazir leaned back in his chair. "What are your plans, Listener?"

I had been thinking about that very question for days now. "I think we should just buy him," I shrugged.

"Buy him?" Twyla frowned.

"Yea," I picked up a piece of cheese and ignored the anticipation on Cicero's face as I took a bite. "You know, pay off his bounty. If they are holding him in Whiterun and not sending him somewhere else, how bad could his bounty be?"

"Well, we definitely have the funds for something like that," Nazir rubbed his chin.

"Why don't we just break him out?" Babette sipped from her cup.

"It is our first order from the Night Mother," I sighed. "I don't want to risk failing and him going back to prison, some of us getting caught and ending up in prison, or worse, all of us ending up dead."

"Fair enough," Nazir nodded. "But we can't all go anyway, the Keeper should stay here and care for the Night Mother, and Babette can't travel during daylight."

"No, no, no!" Cicero pouted. "The Keeper wishes to join the first outing with the Listener."

I looked to Twyla, panic on my face. I couldn't, no, I _wouldn't_ spend that much time with Cicero alone.

Nazir was the one to shake his head and save me from my fate. "No, Keeper, I must insist that you stay here," he leaned forward and ran his fingers down his long beard as he turned his own thoughts over in his mind. "It is bad enough that the Listener is leaving Sanctuary, we can't have you both out and at risk.

"Yes," I nodded furiously. "Yes that is good thinking."

"I know I can't order you to stay," Nazir sighed. "But I will suggest it, with the Listener's approval."

I was still nodding, my head felt as though it was going to roll of my neck.

"This stinks of plotting…" Cicero sulked and crossed his arms. "Like a pile of Daedra shit."

Twyla giggled. "It's alright, Keeper," she smiled kindly. "I will stay here with you."

"I suppose that leaves you and me, Listener," Nazir stood from where he had been sitting. "I say we leave in the morning."

"Yes," I nodded.

"Pack light," he grinned wickedly. "I have an idea."

"Oh no," I grumbled. "What have I done to myself?"


End file.
